


Running, and Not Quite Sure Where to Go

by brodinsons (aeon_entwined)



Series: Fruit of Eden [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 09:12:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2687279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeon_entwined/pseuds/brodinsons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ORIGINALLY POSTED: March 27, 2010</p>
<p>Castiel discusses options with Dean, and Sam makes a choice …</p>
            </blockquote>





	Running, and Not Quite Sure Where to Go

“Sammy.”

Oh hell no. It’s like 6 in the morning. He is not falling for that again.

_”Sammy.”_

Aw fuck. It’s his serious voice again. 

With a low groan, Sam rolls over, still wrapped in a good portion of the blankets on his bed. “ _What_ , Dean?”

“Your stalker’s back. And he brought … stuff.”

The younger Winchester’s eyebrows climb toward his hairline. “Stuff? What kind of stuff? Demon stuff? Ritual stuff? What are you talk-“

“Woah, dude … chill. Looks harmless to me. I mean … as harmless as a sword can get, but anyways. That’s beside the point. Go … talk to him or whatever it is you do. Sooner he leaves, the better.”

At that, Sam scrambles out of bed, nearly falling off the edge in his hurry to grab shoes and a suitable shirt. 

Fucking hell … does the universe never cease to find ways of fucking with him?

Once he has a shirt, pants and shoes on, in addition to a demon knife in his pocket and a .45 in his belt, he moves towards the door, peering out the window before opening it. 

Sure enough, the archangel is once again leaning against the passenger door of the Impala, looking for all the world like a lost tourist. Rather than the ruler of Hell.

“Holy shit-“ Sam grits out, his hand curling tight around the doorknob as he takes in the lethal sword sheathed at Lucifer’s side. The blade alone is about three feet long, not to mention the Enochian inscribed from the tip to the hilt.

With a slightly more cautious air, he pushes the door open and strides out, not giving the archangel any indication of his current wariness. Or, at least he hopes he isn’t.

Meanwhile, as Dean watches his brother approach Lucifer, the distinct sound of wing beats alerts him to the fact that another angel has arrived.

“Hey Cas.”

“Hello Dean.” The angel’s voice sounds as if it’s right in his ear and Dean startles, whipping his head sideways to look at Castiel, who’s actually just standing next to him.

The hunter merely raises an eyebrow, then gives Cas a pointed look. “So … you mind telling me why exactly I’m letting Sammy go out there and _talk_ to the Devil like they’re out to Sunday brunch?”

Castiel frowns slightly at that, but surprisingly doesn’t make any move to correct him. 

“Lucifer is here of his own volition. He is not attempting to sway Sam or persuade him to say ‘yes’. That much I’ve determined from what he has shared with me, which is little. What I do know is that he does not intend to harm yourself, Sam, or anyone. Not right now.”

Dean blinks, not quite sure what to do about that.

“So what … he’s all of a sudden gone rogue from the whole Apocalypse idea? And he’s decided stalking Sammy’s a better use of his time?”

At the angel’s slightly blank look, Dean rolls his eyes and continues.

“Sorry Cas, but something smells more than fishy. And that usually leads me to call bullshit.”

“This is not ‘bullshit’, nor is it a trick. Lucifer seems genuinely interested in Sam. For what purpose or to what end, I cannot say.”

The hunter sighs, rubbing a hand over his face and flops back against the bed. “Whatever. I’ll think about it when I actually have the brainpower. You gonna stay for a while, Cas?”

“Yes. I will be here when you wake up, Dean.” Castiel’s response is quiet, almost gentle.

Dean smiles at that, then mumbles a quiet “thank you” before falling back to sleep, sprawled messily across his bed.

+++++++++++

“So … planning on killing anything with that?”

The archangel raises an eyebrow, sparing a brief glance at the blade lashed to his belt before returning his gaze to Sam. 

“It has killed many angels, and many demons. It will no doubt do so again.”

Sam blinks at that, not entirely sure what the cryptic meaning behind it is. “What is it … exactly?”

Lucifer chuckles, an eerily human sound. “My Father gave me this sword, in the very first days of my existence.”

“Ok … it’s an archangel’s sword then? Doesn’t that mean you’re holding an essentially indestructible weapon right now?”

With a quiet sigh, the archangel glances at him, then nods. “Yes.”

An apprehensive look passes over the hunter’s face. “So … you’re going to kill me with it?”

Lucifer snorts, his expression almost mournful. “Of course not, you idiot. Since you haven’t seemed to grasp the hints I’ve given you, allow me to spell it out … an archangel’s sword is the only weapon that can be used to slay one of us.”

And jaw, meet floor.

“Um … why do you have it then?”

“To give you what you’ve wanted from the moment the Final Seal was broken.”

Sam’s eyes widen, then his entire body freezes as the archangel pulls the sword free from its temporary sheath and presents it to him, hilt first.

Suddenly, in the blink of a cosmic eye, the opportunity has landed in his unsuspecting arms.

An archangel’s sword is grasped in both hands, and Lucifer is standing before him, completely unmoving and completely impassive.

This is it. He could end everything right now. He could kill Lucifer, and the Apocalypse would stop. 

For a moment, a thrill of power races through him, alighting every vein. The sword tingles in his grasp, the Enochian sigils almost seeming to glow. Then, before he can even catch the movement, the archangel is on his knees, alien blue eyes locked on his, expression almost serene.

With a slow breath, Sam lifts the sword, letting it rest against the side of Lucifer’s neck where a small rivulet of blood blooms. The archangel tenses slightly. _So he does feel …_

He hoists it over his head, the silver blade gleaming in the early morning sun. 

_Is this it? Is this everything we’ve fought for? Should it be this easy? Is this right?_

Just as the last though enters his mind, the sword falls.


End file.
